


latin simone (que pasa contigo)

by lucigucci



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dark Magic, Devil Lucio (The Arcana), Hypnotism, M/M, Muriel Route (The Arcana), Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci
Summary: (latin simone by gorillaz)Lucio captures Asra’s face with a long-nailed finger under his chin. “Now now, thinking of breaking off your only chance so soon? I’m a busy man, you know. I won’t have time for a second round of negotiations.”At this new hostility, Julian’s heart races, and he lunges forward to pull Asra back, but before he can take so much as a step, two sets of hands seize his arms and hold him in place. “We haven’t agreed to anything!” Julian yelps. “Asra! We need to leave!”Asra tries to look back before his chin is seized this time and jerked forward again. “Giving up on your little alliance so soon?” Lucio demands with a twisted grin.“Then make your demands clear! What in the hells do you want?” Asra counters. In one of his hands, the beginnings of a fire spark out of middair, and Lucio’s amusement falters.“How boring,” he grumbles. He holds Asra in place, considering him. He lifts his head up from its resting place and uses his other hand to cup Asra’s cheek. It’s so simple, so tender, it makes Julian’s stomach tie itself in a knot. “How… pure,” he continues, softer this time. “How innocent you are.”
Relationships: Asra & Lucio (The Arcana), Asra/Julian Devorak, Asra/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	latin simone (que pasa contigo)

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. The apprentice’s words ring through Julian’s head and bounce around his skull, and he can tell that it’s haunting Asra too despite his being less vocal about it. Asra has that pouty little frown that makes his pillowy lips taut, that crease between his fluffy eyebrows, that nervous tic where he wrings his hands in his lap and fidgets in his seat. He notices Julian looking and relaxes his features into a forced smile. “Ilya?” he says.

Julian doesn’t smile back. “Are you alright?” he asks. Asra’s face falls again. “You look like you’re regretting this.”

Asra glances out the window of the carriage and taps the window with his knuckle. “We can’t go back, anyway,” he mutters.

“We could jump out. I’ll go first and catch you.”

“No, I mean-- they’re counting on us. All of them are. Not just Portia and Nadi and Muriel and MC, but the Vesuvian refugees too. This deal has to go well. We have no choice otherwise.”

Julian takes a chance and reaches out to rest his hand on Asra’s knee, and, when Asra doesn’t flinch away or say anything, keeps it there. “We’ll do what we can. That’s all anybody can ask of us. If things go wrong… well, Faust is safe with MC and Muriel, isn’t she? And the others are hidden and safe in the forest camp?”

Asra nods. “Yes, I suppose so. He can’t do that much harm even if he means to betray us.” 

“Exactly! Besides, he sent this carriage for us, didn’t he? So he must at least be courteous.”

“Is it courtesy? Or are we birds in a cage?” Asra covers Julian’s hand with his own gentle fingers. He’s trying to hide it, Julian knows, but all his tells are still there, each one of them words on a page that Julian can recite by heart.

“His power is still limited, Asra,” Julian soothes. “Even if his realm is merged with ours, he has to abide by some rules, doesn’t he? You told me that all the major arcana have some kind of pirate’s code.”

A grin flits across Asra’s lips. “He isn’t the type to follow rules.”

“Well, no, but even so, the rules are there for a reason.”

Asra takes Julian’s hand from his knee and _oh!_ raises it to his lips to kiss. “You’re right. I should relax. He can probably smell fear.”

Julian doesn’t dare to withdraw his hand from Asra’s grip, so he just smiles and nods, hoping to be blessed with a kiss somewhere else. Before his prayers can be answered, however, the carriage comes to a grinding halt, and his heart drops. Asra’s fingers tighten around his for a fraction of an instant. A soldier dressed all in red comes into view at the side of the carriage and opens the door for them. Julian is the first one to step out, with Asra close at his side.

The palace has been transformed beyond nightmares. Each ivory spire is now jet black. The windows glint red in what little light the cloudy sky grants. A gargantuan wrought iron fence has been constructed circumnavigating the entirety of the property, imposing and sharp and jutting out of the landscape like broken glass from a wound. The soldier who opened the carriage door beckons to the couple, marching them towards the grand entrance. Julian doesn’t dare to speak and it seems that Asra is following suit. 

The moment they step over the threshold, the double doors swing closed behind them with a bang, sending a visible shudder through Asra’s limbs. Julian squeezes his hand to comfort him. “It’s alright,” Julian whispers.

Their guide leads them through the entrance hall, which is decorated in fine golden furniture and antiques, up a polished black staircase to another set of grand doors. The soldier stops and knocks twice. “Asra Alnazar and Julian Devorak are here to see His Majesty with a message from the rebel alliance,” they bark.

Julian half-hopes nobody answers, and someone’s schedule got mixed up. Despite his hopes, the doors open, and the guard ushers them inside wordlessly. Somehow, this chamber is even grander than the first. Golden candelabras and chandeliers shine from every corner of the room. Plush white carpet lines the path to the obsidian throne set in the center. Scarlet soldiers stand like carved chess pieces around each of the walls, faces turned to the creature in the throne.

“My old friends,” the monster booms, spreading his arms wide, “welcome to my palace!”

Asra grimaces. “This isn’t your palace, pig.”

Their host roars with laughter. He throws his proud blonde head back, horns catching the light off the hundreds of dripping candles. One of his arms is shining metallic black and the other is clothed in a white suit. “Oh, Asra! Is that any way to speak to your Count?” he thunders. His piercing scarlet eyes, bright and wicked in pools of tar, meet Asra’s violet ones, and now it’s Julian’s turn to shudder. “Do you forget who I am? What I have so graciously and mercifully given you?”

“You have given us nothing but hardship,” Asra growls.

“Asra,” Julian interjects meekly, but Asra ignores him, pressing forward.

“The people of Vesuvia are suffering at your hand. You should be ashamed of yourself for soiling the name of the major arcana.”

Instead of offended, the subject of Asra’s contempt looks downright pleased at his insults. “A magician such as yourself can’t play dumb with me. You can feel the magic in the air, like oil on the surface of water. More power than any mortal could ever dream of is yours for the taking.” To demonstrate, he twirls his metal claws through the air, gathering some kind of dark substance, thin as fog yet black as night, so that it coils around him, domesticated.

“You know that much magic would cost someone their soul. Nobody in their right mind would be grateful for that.”

The monster sneers. His finger falters and the fog melts back into the air. “What about you, Jules? You aren’t here to gripe too, are you?”

Julian squares his shoulders. “We’re here on behalf of the Countess. We want to make a deal.”

At the last word, the Count licks his lips and leans forward in his seat. “A deal,” he repeats.

Julian glances at Asra’s furious face, then back to the throne, and adds, “please, Lucio.”

A cruel grin displays every sharp tooth in Lucio’s mouth at the sound of his name. He settles back in his seat, surveying the couple in front of him with hungry eyes. “What is it that you want?” he asks.

“Leave Vesuvia,” Asra snaps. “Take your realm back to where it was on the magical plane. Never return.”

“Hmm. That’s quite a tall order. And what do you offer me in return?”

Again, Julian looks at Asra before answering, who has fallen silent, and replies, “we’ll discuss payment, but for now… name your price, and if we think it’s reasonable, we’ll pass your answer onto the Countess for her approval.”

Lucio rests his head in his metal talons. He licks his lips once more, as though his appetite is dripping from his jaws. “It’s taken me quite a lot of work to come this far,” he says. “I won’t leave Vesuvia for just anything. If I did make a deal, I would expect something of greater value than what I paid.”

Fearing the answer, Julian adds, “and what did you pay?”

Lucio’s eyes once again wander to Asra, wandering along the outline of his body, lingering at his hand joined in Julian’s. “Just a few hearts,” he muses.

“We won’t sacrifice any lives for you,” Asra hisses, but Julian can tell that his fearless facade is cracking under Lucio’s scrutiny. Now he’s looking at the floor and clutching Julian’s hand like a lifeline.

“What’s a few lives in the grand scheme of things? What’s, say, ten compared to so many tens of thousands? Everything comes with a price.” Lucio lounges back in his seat. His eyes remain fixed on Asra, now noting the anxiety in his face with aroused delight. 

“No. The Countess told us that our transaction will keep any and all innocent lives out of it,” Julian says. He releases Asra’s hand so he can bring his arm around his shoulder and squeeze him to his side. “We can offer you gold, temples... even artwork in your honor. If you aren’t interested in anything like that, we’ll leave and stop wasting your time.”

Lucio raises the hand he isn’t resting on and uses his index finger to crook forward. “Magician,” he remarks.

Asra meets the monster’s eyes with acidic venom. “What?” he spits.

“Come.”

Asra doesn’t move. Julian tightens his grip around his shoulders in what hopes is a protective motion. “He doesn’t have to go anywhere,” Julian snarls. He hopes he sounds braver than he feels.

“He does if he wants me to consider a deal with the former Countess,” Lucio retorts. “Come here to me, magician. Come please me.”

Julian can’t read Asra’s expression. He’s got one of those inscrutable frowns, the kind he wore so many years ago during the plague. Julian tries to appeal to him with a worried shake of his head and a quiet, “let’s just leave, this isn’t worth it.”

His heart falls when Asra brushes Julian’s hand off his shoulder and leaves his side. Every cell in his body is screaming for him to seize Asra, to pull him away and keep him safe, and yet he knows he has to trust Asra’s judgement, trust that he knows what he’s doing, trust that Lucio won’t harm him. (Though who is he kidding? This is the actual Devil he’s talking about).

Asra stops at Lucio’s feet and sinks to one knee. “Your Majesty,” he mumbles, addressing the carpet.

Lucio’s smile broadens. The hand he used to beckon drifts down to Asra’s head, lifting the hat off Asra’s white curls and tossing it aside. “I can feel your hatred. It’s sweet in the air.”

“Feelings don’t matter in business. I’m here to make a deal, not start a war.”

“Ah, but mortal feelings are so delicious, I would be a fool to ignore them.” He lowers his fingers to comb through Asra’s hair, chuckling when Asra flinches under his touch. “Ahh-- you’re soft. Do you use spells on your hair to make it so fluffy?”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Julian interrupts.

Lucio is either ignoring him or is utterly absorbed in Asra’s presence at his feet. “Silver would look stunning around you, catching the light in your eyes… but then again, it’s hard to beat gold… do you have a preference?”

Julian can’t see Asra’s face but can hear the scowl in his voice when he replies, “I hardly think that matters, your Majesty.”

“Silks, then? Something sheer, to leave nothing up to the imagination, to catch every envious eye in the palace?”

Asra raises his head in one swift movement, startled, and can’t stop his instincts to jerk back from the throne. “What are you-- what--”

Lucio captures Asra’s face with a long-nailed finger under his chin. “Now now, thinking of breaking off your only chance so soon? I’m a busy man, you know. I won’t have time for a second round of negotiations.”

At this new hostility, Julian’s heart races, and he lunges forward to pull Asra back, but before he can take so much as a step, two sets of hands seize his arms and hold him in place. “We haven’t agreed to anything!” Julian yelps. “Asra! We need to leave!”

Asra tries to look back before his chin is seized this time and jerked forward again. “Giving up on your little alliance so soon?” Lucio demands with a twisted grin.

“Then make your demands clear! What in the hells do you want?” Asra counters. In one of his hands, the beginnings of a fire spark out of middair, and Lucio’s amusement falters. 

“How boring,” he grumbles. He holds Asra in place, considering him. He lifts his head up from its resting place and uses his other hand to cup Asra’s cheek. It’s so simple, so tender, it makes Julian’s stomach tie itself in a knot. “How… pure,” he continues, softer this time. “How innocent you are.”

The fire dies in Asra’s hand. Julian pauses struggling in his restraints. _What the…?_ Lucio pulls him a breath closer, and Asra doesn’t resist. “Look at me, precious. Look at me. That’s it. Come.” Lucio guides him slowly up, off his knees, climbing onto the throne, into the monster’s lap. It might be a trick of the light but Julian swears Lucio’s scarlet eyes are glowing all on their own.

“Asra,” Julian calls. “You-- you don’t have to! Let’s go back!”

“You won’t hate me forever,” Lucio croons. His eyes are piercing and bright even from Julian’s vantage point. “No, you couldn’t. You’ll learn to adore me.” Something isn’t right. Something is disgusting, pervasive. Lucio’s hands lower from Asra’s face and run down the sides of his neck to rest on his back. “Ah-ah, look only at me, jewel, only at me.”

Julian cries out and kicks and fights at the soldiers on either side of him. He doesn’t know a thing about magic, not a damn thing, but whatever dark spell is happening, he has to stop it. “Asra!” he shrieks. “Let him go! Asra!”

Hope perks its head up inside of him when Asra shifts in his position, as though half-asleep. He makes a sound sort of like “mmrph”.

“Come on, Jules, it’s not like he doesn’t have a choice. Why don’t I ask him?”

“What are you doing to him?” Julian squeaks.

Lucio places his palm over Asra’s eyes and leans into his ear, so close that his lips brush Asra’s skin, and jealousy burns in Julian’s throat. He’s whispering something too quiet for anyone but Asra to hear. After a pause, Asra slurs something back, also too soft for Julian to make out. A triumphant smirk stretches across Lucio’s face. “Louder, my sweet, so your doctor can hear you too,” Lucio tells him.

Asra’s fists clench in his lap. “I want… I’ll stay…”

“ _What_?” Julian squawks.

“I’ve got to help… everyone is depending on us…”

“Asra, I’m not leaving you here with him! Nadia told us--”

“Ilya,” Asra whimpers, and he sounds so broken it shoots pain right through Julian’s heart. “Please, Ilya, please… I need to do this… I need to help… any way I can... ”

Lucio lowers both his hands to Asra’s waist. He sings something in Asra’s ear, and, grinning at Julian’s horror, readjusts his embrace so Asra can wrap his arms around Lucio’s neck and bury his face in his chest. “Satisfied?” Lucio teases. “I know I am.”

He shouldn’t be so envious. This tear in his eye, it shouldn’t be there. “You can’t,” Julian rasps.

“He must’ve taken lessons from you, Jules. This self-sacrificing seems a little familiar.”

“What do you want with him? I’ll take his place! I’ll do whatever you want! Just let me show you, Lu-- your Majesty!”

Lucio considers him. He strokes up and down Asra’s back, gentle as a lover. “I would, Jules… it’s just that you’re already so submissive, so it isn’t any fun. Taming a wild animal is ten times more satisfying than adopting something docile.” As he speaks, that tarblack mist materializes in the air again, long languid tendrils that coil and undulate, groping sightlessly around the throne.

“I can give you information,” Julian concedes. “About-- about the Countess. The alliance. Whatever you want! Just let him go, Gods, please just let him go!”

“You know, maybe he didn’t learn self-sacrificing from you, if you’re so ready to sell out every single Vesuvian citizen for your partner’s sake. That sounds a little greedy if you ask me.”

Julian glowers, the tips of his ears tinged red. “As if the Devil understands,” he grumbles.

Lucio’s bloody gaze doesn’t leave Julian’s face even as he buries his nose in Asra’s sweet-smelling hair. The smoke has discovered Asra’s presence and embraces him and curls up into his sanctuary against the Devil’s heart. Asra shivers and coughs at the foreign presence. “Inhale,” Lucio murmurs into his hair. Asra obeys. _Domesticated._

“Whatever I can give you, in exchange for his safety. I’ll give-- give you my word. I c-can be useful if you let me,” Julian pleads.

“But you see, that’s just the thing,” Lucio tells him. “The absence of Asra Alnazar will tear your rebellion apart. What good can a hack doctor, a trophy wife, a self-pitying pacifist and an untrained apprentice do against a deity in his very own world without the magician’s help?”

Julian tries to take a ferocious swipe at him despite his restraints. “You take that back!” he shouts.

“And without him by your side, _you_ crumble without support, which means another alliance leader is already out of action. Of course, I understand,” he adds, slipping his hands under Asra’s thighs in order to scoot him closer on his lap, “he really is a bit enchanting.”

“Get your hands off him!”

Lucio wears the sneer of a cat who just caught an elusive mouse after weeks of hunting. He tilts his prey’s head to the side to gain access to his cheek, which he nuzzles. That unnerving dark substance is still clouding around Asra’s nostrils and Julian aches to protect him from it. 

Lucio is so, so close to him, and it brings back warped memories of happier times. So many years ago, Julian was allowed to hold Asra like that, to adore him. Ever since Asra’s apprentice left, Julian hoped beyond hope they might go back to those times. Asra had been so warm towards him. Nights spent in Asra’s arms were nights that all the problems of the world seemed to disappear. After Lucio’s return, Asra had even stayed by Julian’s side, his very own protector. And Asra had kissed him in the carriage on the way here-- kissed his hand! Doesn’t that mean--

The Devil presses his lips to Asra’s. His eyes close at last, his hunger satiated. Asra opens to him like a flower in bloom. Almost all words are lost to Julian, who hangs his head, defeated, and whimpers a pathetic “please… oh, Gods, please…”

When he is released, Asra moans and buries his flushed face in the crook of Lucio’s neck, clumsily running his fingers through Lucio’s platinum locks of hair. Julian chokes back a sob. “You’re dismissed, doctor,” Lucio says, even though his attention is focused solely on his new prize. “Go run off to the ex-Countess and tell her that, thanks to her generous gift, I’ve changed my mind and won’t destroy the alliance.”

He can’t give up. Asra wouldn’t want him to give up. Julian wrenches one of his arms out of one of the soldiers’ grip, if only for a moment, just to keep them from pulling him out of the throne room. “That wasn’t what we agreed on! You said--”

“I’m making the terms of the deal now since you failed to make them earlier.”

“But--!”

“Lucio,” Asra mewls, nibbling at the Devil’s pale neck, nails scrabbling at his chest, “won’t you take me? Please, Lucio?”

Julian swallows a searing cry that threatens to rip from his throat. “Be patient, my pet,” Lucio hums, and calms his captive by slipping a hand between his thighs. Asra’s head lolls back, his lips parting just enough to sing the notes of a song Julian longs to harmonize with. 

“What do-- what do you mean, you won’t d-destroy the alliance?” Julian stammers.

“I had planned to send my army out of the kingdom of Vesuvia and into the rebel’s camp to slaughter every single one of them, as an example to the rest of the country. But that just wouldn’t do now-- oh no, not while I’m so occupied with this charming peace offering. You should be thankful that your life has been spared, Jules.”

Thankful? Thankful for _this_? “I don’t know what kind of magic trick you’ve pulled,” Julian hisses, hoping his despair doesn’t blare through what he hopes is an intimidating threat, “but I swear I’ll get Asra back. I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done to him. I’ll make it hurt beyond what you can ever imagine.”

Lucio smirks. He turns his attention to admire Asra’s reverent face, his snowy fluttering eyelashes, his wide violet eyes flecked with red. “And if I tire of him? If I dispose of him before you get the chance to avenge him?”

Julian howls and tries to charge to the throne to do something, _anything_ , because it doesn’t matter that he is being spared when Asra is _here_ in _that thing’s_ amorous embrace. Rough hands clamp down on him and force him to the plush carpet below. He’s weeping. He’s sobbing Asra’s name, he thinks, over and over as though the mere mention of his love might save him. Everything is hot and painful and blurry. He kicks and punches anything he can reach. Some blows hit, most don’t. A dozen hands drag him away through his haze of tears.

Someone is calling his name… or are they? He tries to shout back but his throat is raw. Black spots pop in and out of his vision until they fill everything completely and drown his senses.

And the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him by the shoulder, speaking to him from leagues away. He jolts upright. “Asra!” he screeches.

MC, who kneels beside him with a damp rag, furrows their brows. Both of them are on a familiar forest floor. To their right, Muriel cleans a bowl in a nearby stream. “Julian, Asra isn’t here. We found you unconscious on the outskirts of Vesuvia. Where is he? What happened?”

Julian gulps like a fish out of water. He stares into MC’s concerned eyes for a few moments, wordless, helpless, before hunching over and crying.


End file.
